


Patrol

by bluebeholder



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Dad max, Everybody Lives, Gen, War Rig Family, Well Everyone Good At Least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wasteland is a dangerous place, even in this new era. The least Max can do is make sure his family is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patrol

He couldn’t stop it. Even now, when the Citadel was safer than it had ever been before, he could never shake the feeling that something bad would happen. No matter how often he was reassured, he just couldn’t stop. Noises in the Citadel at night woke him. Even something as simple as a pipe gurgling or the wind hissing in a crack would have him on his feet in an instant, ready for trouble. 

When that happened he often couldn’t get back to sleep. He’d just lay awake and stare into the darkness, waiting for trouble to find him. For a while, this was all he did. Every night, the same thing. It was wearing on him.

So eventually he decided to do something about it.

When he woke up, certain that enemies were prowling in the darkness, he’d get up. Put on his boots, tug on his jacket, pick up a gun. And with that he’d walk, going quickly and quietly and thoroughly through the Citadel. He’d patrol. He’d make sure they were all safe.

He knew it was foolish. There were people always watching now, people keeping guard on the walls against night marauders. But it made him feel better, and settled all the nasty worries and fears that kept him up at night.

His first stop was always somehow with the War Boys, where they still slept in their barracks. None of them ever moved from their piles and heaps. He would just look into each dormitory, checking to make sure that nothing bad had happened. (Nothing ever had.)

The galleries where the once-Wretched stayed were easier, because they were big and open. He would never be able to miss it if there was anything wrong there. He passed through these quickly, headed up to the upper tiers of the Citadel.

Here, he’d walk through the nurseries. He listened to the gentle breathing and squeaky snores of the children, reassuring himself that they were still there, still alive. Of course then he’d look in on the mothers’ quarters, just to see and be sure of safety there. The remaining Vuvalini stayed here, so he felt a bit silly for worrying. He checked anyway. 

He always checked the room where Capable and Nux slept. Every night, when he peered through the door, he would see them curled up together, protecting each other. They never moved when he looked in. He still suspected that they were really awake and just waited until he was gone to get on with whatever they’d been up to. He didn’t mind. It gave him peace of mind to see them like that.

Then he would look in on the other women. Cheedo and the Dag often slept in the greenhouses, too tired from their work to go back to their own beds. He made sure to shut the windows, so they wouldn’t be woken too early. Angharad he might find slumped over a book or a newly-written discourse. He’d shut off the lights and cover her shoulders with a blanket, to make sure she was comfortable. Toast spent her nights in her room. She was a restless sleeper, and the gun she kept under her pillow always ended up on the floor. He would slide it back into her hand before ducking out.

His last stop was in Furiosa’s room. She was always asleep when he came in. The one night she wasn’t he felt more foolish than ever. She sat by the window, staring out at the silence of the desert. When she saw him, she looked up and gave him a small smile. “Everything in order?” she asked.

“Mm,” he agreed. He sat down next to her and looked out the window, too. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but he couldn’t help scanning the dim horizon for telltale clouds of dust or the glow of distant lights. He tried to shrug off the embarrassment of wandering around in the middle of the night with a gun, and couldn’t quite manage it. 

She bumped her shoulder gently into his. “Thanks for looking out for us, Max,” she said.

He smiled, and leaned into the pressure. He made himself relax. Furiosa was safe and alive. They were all safe. Nothing would get into the Citadel, not while Max was here.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I wrote this for Family Appreciation Week, but never posted it. (?????) I do like it, so here it is.
> 
> This is based on something my dad really does do. Byproduct of being a soldier, I guess. I couldn't get the image of Max doing that out of my head as soon as I saw the words "Dad Max".


End file.
